


No One

by penmarks



Category: Sherlock (BBC), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cute, Fluff, Gay, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Parentlock, Sherlock - Freeform, TJLC | The Johnlock Conspiracy, rlly gay and pure and sweet basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 19:33:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9457460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penmarks/pseuds/penmarks





	

“Haven’t touched your tea,” John said, sighing as he flopped into his seat. He kicked his feet up on Sherlock’s chair, momentarily scorned by the lack of response. “Sherlock?”

“Mm,” he hummed, eyes flicking back and forth across the screen of his laptop.

“Your tea?” John leaned forward to peer around the laptop screen, but Sherlock immediately closed it with a loud _snap_.

John huffed and fell back against his chair. Clutching his mug in one hand, he slurped the tepid liquid. As soon as his attention was diverted to the newspaper, Sherlock opened the laptop again. Though this time, he seemed less, well… neurotic about it. He’d picked up his tea and brought it to his lips, only pausing when he noticed John’s narrowed gaze.

“Problem?”

“What the hell are you reading?” John let out a dry laugh before his face fell into a frown and he leaned forward again, only to have Sherlock tilt the screen down. “Is this some sort of secret case I’m not allowed to know about?”

“If I said yes, you’d continue to pry.” Sherlock gave him a flat smile. “So, no.”

“Liar.”

“Prevaricator.”

“Will you just—” John jumped up and grabbed the computer off Sherlock’s lap before the curly-haired bloke had a moment to react. “What the hell is…”

Sherlock was sipping his tea in silence, his eyes cast faraway.

“You got a new baby monitor with… a camera?” 

“Excellent deduction, John. May I have my laptop back now?”

John ran his eyes over the device in his hand and turned away from Sherlock when he reached up to take it from him.

“This is _my_ laptop!”

“What’s mine is yours, et cetera, et cetera…”

“What was wrong with the monitor from before?” John turned back to Sherlock, the furrow in his brow growing impossibly deeper. “Why didn’t you just—”

“Oh, please, John.” Sherlock spun in his seat. “The previous monitor situation was completely inefficient considering how often we leave Rosie—”

“While she’s _sleeping_!” John closed the laptop and tossed it onto his chair. “We don’t just leave her unattended in her room while we’re on cases, Sherlock! What do you—”

“John,” Sherlock said, patient as ever. He looked up at him, still sitting comfortably, the shadow of a smirk dancing around the corners of his mouth. “This was in no way an attack on your parenting. I just think—”

“Really? Not an—Oh, well, as long as it wasn’t—”

“Yes, obviously, it wasn’t an attack. I was just trying to do the best for your child, that’s all. I’ll connect the camera to my own laptop if that would make you feel less… attacked.”

Sherlock was holding back a laugh, his tea cup held in front of his mouth in a very poor attempt to hide his smile. John scowled and scratched the back of his neck, working through Sherlock’s words slowly.

“So, you—”

“Yes.”

“If I could finish.”

“Of course.”

John nodded and made his way back to his chair and sat reluctantly. His hands ran over the computer on his lap as he chewed on the inside of his lip.

“So you just… watch her sleep?”

Sherlock scoffed and turned his head away. “Well, when you—”

“No I’m… I’m serious. You set this up so you could watch her sleep, then? Why? There’s a chair right in—You _specifically_ moved a chair in there for the purpose of putting her to bed and watching her sleep. I don’t understand.”  John pointed back toward the bedroom that Sherlock had demanded on converting from his own to Rosie’s. “You know she’s right… there, right?”

“Obviously.” Sherlock said, unmoving, cup of tea still hovering in front of his mouth. He was some kind of strange statue that insisted on making a point that John hadn’t quite gotten to yet.

“So what’s… the point?”

“Oh, so you _did_ want an explanation.”

Sherlock set his cup of tea aside and folded his hands in his lap. John threw his head back against the chair and closed his eyes, prepared for a high-speed, whiplash-inducing lecture that surely he’d only catch half of.

“I just thought it would be easier on you,” Sherlock said.

That was it. John waited for more, but nothing came until several moments later when he finally opened one eye.

“Easier for me? How?”

“Well, it seems to trouble you when I’m constantly rushing to Rosie’s bedside at all hours of the night, so I went ahead—”

“It doesn’t _trouble_ me, Sherlock.” John chuckled and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I just don’t want you thinking you’re the only one who has to run to her aid whenever she makes a sound in the middle of the night.”

“Well, this way it’s easier to keep an eye on her and be absolutely sure without disturbing the entire building. The stairs _are_ awfully loud, this saves us both a noisy trip.” Sherlock nodded in John’s silence, clearly unsure what to make of his prolonged, loving stare. “Right, then. _Now_ can I have my laptop back?”

“It’s _my_ laptop, Sherlock.”

“Yes, but I _was_ in the middle of something quite important so if you don’t mind—”

John stopped him mid-reach with a gentle hand on his chest. “Sherlock, she’s been asleep for fifteen minutes. I’m sure she’s fine.”

“As am I, but this way—”

“You’re doing a great job, you know that right?”

Sherlock’s gaze darted across John’s face before zeroing back in on the closed laptop in his lap. John’s hand hadn’t moved, still keeping Sherlock a bit less than arm’s length away.

“John—”

“I wouldn’t be able to do this without you. I’d be… quite the mess.”

“Yes, you—” Sherlock bit his tongue and met John’s gaze, his face more open and soft than John had seen in awhile. “You’d be doing just fine, John. I’ve no doubt about that.”

“I never would’ve thought to have a baby monitor with a camera on it.”

“True, but that’s probably because you’d never leave her side if you didn’t have someone else here.” Sherlock paused, his face suddenly falling more solemn, his eyes welling up. “Come to think of it, if it weren’t for me…”

“No,” John said, his hand falling away from Sherlock only so he could point in his face. “No, don’t do that. Do not. We’re not… We’re past that, Sherlock.”

“You’d be better off doing this with her mother.” Sherlock sat back in his chair and let his cheek fall into one had. “Not her weird… uncle person.”

“Mm, no.” John snorted and set the laptop aside. “Not uncle, certainly not.”

“What?”

“Uncle is far too… weird.”

“What? Why is it—”

“ _Sherlock_.” It always baffled John that the man who could see through anything and anyone still failed to see the obvious. At this point his laughter could no longer be sarcastic or entertained, it was just sad and dry. After everything, Sherlock still needed to be reminded, needed it spelled out loud and clear. “I… You’re not…”

 _Rosie can not call the man I love with her_ uncle. _Just say it, damn it._

“I’m not…” Sherlock said with a smack of his lips, clearly leading John to say whatever it was that was on the tip of his tongue.

“We share a bed, Sherlock. You’re not her… uncle.”

“Obviously not biologically, but—”

“Sherlock,” John said, a smile tugging at his mouth. Sherlock blinked back him, expectant. “In any sense.”

“Well certainly I’m not… I wouldn’t be…” John’s smile splashed across his face then, shamelessly and completely. Sherlock seemed alarmed at first but soon his wide-eyed blink turned into a curious smile of his own. “Her… father?”

“Well, for all intents and purposes—”

“John, I hope you don’t feel like you need to be saying this to—”

“No, I’m saying this because it makes me grossly uncomfortable to think about my daughter— _our_ daughter—” Sherlock froze at that, if it was possible to become more frozen than a statue. “Sherlock, you do know if we’ve been raising a child together for the past four months?”

“Well… I—” Sherlock sputtered incoherently until finally he cleared his throat and sat up a bit straighter in his seat. A strange look occupied his face, and if John didn’t know any better, he’d think the man of stone was on the verge of… happy crying?

“Are you… all right?”

“Yes, of course I’m all right.” He cleared his throat again, averting his eyes despite John’s pointed gaze. “Why wouldn’t I be all right?”

“You look—”

“Emotional? I know, a disgrace, truly. Honestly, John, I’m fine.”

John shifted in his chair as the slow and heart breaking realization dawned on him. He scooted forward and place a hand on Sherlock’s bouncing knee.

“Sherlock.”

Finally, John was met with crystalline, teary eyes and a tender smile.

“Well, if I never expected to be your best man, how could you expect me to… to… know that…”

“That I’d be honored to share my daughter with you?” John chuckled and absentmindedly ran his thumb over the fabric of Sherlock’s pajama pants. “Sherlock, there’s no one else in this world I’d rather raise her with. Not a single person.”

“Oh, I’m sure you could think of someone. You have plenty of friends.”

John rolled his eyes and Sherlock broke into a tearful laugh, which finally broke John, too. He inhaled a deep breath, as deep as he could despite all the space in his chest being occupied by unadulterated love for the man sitting across from him.

“No one else,” he said as he leaned forward to clasp his hand around the nape of Sherlock’s neck and pull their foreheads together. “Not a single person.”

  



End file.
